"In France," Marcel said with wintry dignity, "accidents occur in the bedroom, not the kitchen."

I loathe writing. On the other hand I'm a great believer in money.

"In France," Marcel said with wintry dignity, "accidents occur in the bedroom, not the kitchen."

Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin - it's the triumphant twang of a bedspring.

I tried to resist his overtures, but he plied me with symphonies, quartets, chamber music, and cantatas.

He bit his lip in a manner which immediately awakened my maternal sympathy, and I helped him bite it.

A farm is an irregular patch of nettles bounded by short-term notes, containing a fool and his wife who didn't know enough to stay in the city.